


i go la la la la la she's got the look

by sultrygoblin



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, POV First Person, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: bucky has a crush but does he still have the moves?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	i go la la la la la she's got the look

**Author's Note:**

> no real prompt. i was chatting with @asadmarveltrashbag (still reeling that i get to say that) and we were talking about bucky and i said something about cuddling in a cabin and this popped in my head.so i guess enjoy your random present my new buddy

It was just supposed to be recon, camping out in the woods wouldn’t be so bad. Especially with Bucky Barnes, the most stoic man you have ever met. No unnecessary conversations, no being forced to run over a plan more than once, just a nice, normal recon mission. And then Europe decided to dump a literal fuck ton of snow on us. There was no way he was going to talk you into riding bitch, on his bike, on snow and ice. Honestly, you laughed when he suggested it, assuming he was joking, and quickly finding out that he was, in fact, not. 

Experiencing you first awkward moment with him, which made you even more uncomfortable when you were trying to play it cool in front of him. You would’ve made it too, except for Eastern Europe and fucking snow. The morning snow would melt most of it so it had just become a waiting game. That maybe, just maybe, you would get through without making a complete idiot of myself.

Strike two came with the power going out. Taking light and heat with it. Neither of which scared or worried you but sudden plunge into darkness yanked a rather unheroic yelp from my throat. And you were sure you were receiving a look somewhere between a sided eye and ‘what the hell’ that only he had managed. Nothing could go wrong if you just stared at the snow, right? Just watch the light bounce off it until you gently dozed off to sleep. You would both wake up at the asscrack of dawn, dig out the bike, get to the pick-up point just a smidgen late, and they’d be no worse for wear.

“You’re gonna freeze over there,” it’s the first non-mission related thing he’s ever said to you and it takes a second for you to really take it in.

You jerked yourt head, not completely sure you’d heard him right, to see him striking a long match and dipping his metal arm into the fireplace, “I’m sorry?”

“You’re gonna freeze,” increasing the volume of his voice like that was the problem and not that your heart was currently beating a thousand times a second in your ears, “Come here.”

You couldn’t have done anything else, it was an odd sensation. Interacting with Bucky had only ever really been a hypothetical. You worked well together but he worked well with most people, Quiet, mission-oriented, with a compulsion to repent. Apparently thoughtful would be added to that list and you don’t know if your inappropriate and completely teenage-style crush could handle that. But you looked at the fire, crouching in front of it as flames crackled to life.

“Back home, our furnace used to go out all the time,” even if you wanted to say something back, you don’t think you would have been able to if you tried, “I would’ve been dead before I met Steve if I hadn’t been able to build a fire.”

You stuttered, with the vain hope he thought it was because of the cold, “I never learned,” you managed to spit out, “That’s stupid, a grown woman and I can’t make a fire.”

“No,” he sounds closer, but you don’t dare look at him, you’ve just managed to remember most of the nouns you knew and was currently working on at least the most likely verbs to come up, “I don’t get to do nice things for you very often.”

“I,” more words, anything, “I didn’t know you wanted to do nice things for you,” taking a controlled fall back to sit a bit more comfortably on the floor.

He snorted, “Of course, I do,” the ghost of a laugh dripping from his lips, “I used to be good at this, you know?”

“Good at what?” finally daring your gaze to shift and it had the exact effect you knew it would. This had taken a step beyond the normal recon missions you found yourself on with him.

You wonder if this is what he was like, before everything, before the war even. When he was just a guy from Brooklyn looking out for his friend and taking girls on dates, “Flirting,” and there was a real smile, “I’m trying to- I’ve been trying to flirt with you.”

“That’s news to me,” it just falls out and you can already feel the awkwardness but there isn’t.

He just laughs, “That’s why I said used to be good at it.”

“Alright,” you chuckled along with him, “Well, it’s gorgeous outside. There’s no power and a fire, I have to stay close to it or I’ll freeze to death, don’t imagine that’s much of an issue for you…”

“No,” you watched him move a bit closer to you, “I think this is the longest we’ve ever actually talked.”

“It’s definitely the longest we’ve ever talked,” closer and closer, till you were shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, “Is this the part where you pretend to yawn?” nudging him lightly with you shoulder.

“I suppose that would be a cliché by now,” he tosses his head back with the worst fake yawn you have ever seen, arm slipping around your shoulder, “What?” you rolled your eyes, “Did it work or not?”

You sighed, leaning into him. You just sat like that, watching the fire. Somewhere along the way, you felt your eyes starting to droop. You were almost asleep, a step away from drooling on his shoulder when you felt your positions shift. It was the first time you’d ever found yourself not involved in the process in any way, left to just continue your journey onward into dreamland. You’re sure your head was on him in some way, a blanket was surely involved but your mind was far too fuzzy. Much more content to be comfortable in his warmth, wrapped in the smell of steel and gun powder.

“Yeah, I still got it.”


End file.
